Till We Grow Older
by cluelessclown
Summary: Arya arrives to The Twins a day earlier than planned and reunites with her brother and mother. One-shot.


The first time that Arya struts into the campsite, a whole, buoyant smile immediately sets onto her face.

She's been dropped by Sandor Cleagane at The Twins, bidding goodbye to the grumpy old man as she set off towards the place where she would meet her brother and mother again. She struts happily, decisively, as though she's gone through nothing for the past year. Everything is forgotten as she realizes she is standing only a few yards away from two members of her family, from whom she had had no news since she left Winterfell. That is, until she met Sandor and he told her about The Twins and the campsite she is now making her way through.

"I'm nearly there" has become her new "Fear cuts deeper than swords", and for a moment she feels like she can almost laugh as she watches how two soldiers from Winterfell argue over an apparently lost coat.

Her first sight of Robb is that of him sitting with their mother and a dark-haired woman she does not know, but whose gentle smile marks her off as someone who feels in a very dear company; not to mention the fact that she is holding Robb's hand as she rubs her fingers against her abdomen. Arya's eyes seem to crinkle at the sight of two of the people she's grown up with — for a moment it almost seems as though she's back in Winterfell, hiding from septa Mordane as she gleefully struts up to her mother and eldest brother.

However, her first reaction is to quietly slither her way closer, stealthy and quiet as a mouse. Not because she's scared, but because she has grown used to walking with her feet barely touching her ground. She has learned to be dead quiet, to keep her eyes wide open; to hold her breath for longer than what it would have been humanly possible, even.

She observes her mother, who is observing some sort of map Arya can't read. Robb, sitting next to her, seems to be talking to the girl who has joined them. Arya's brow furrows — who _is_ this woman, anyhow?

She is just about to take another step closer when a small dog playing around her thrusts on her back and makes her stumble over the wooden boxes she's been hiding behind.

Robb's gaze immediately finds the little short-haired child fumbling with the half-broken boxes and the dog, barking almost as madly as the little girl. He stands up, letting go of the woman's hand momentarily, and unsheathes his sword before approaching their little, smudgy-faced intruder.

"Who's it there?"

The girl looks up from the mess only to find her brother pointing at her with his sword. It has been only a few months since they parted ways, but he seems like an entirely different man. She gulps, pushing the dog aside, and for the first time feels how her knees tremble.

"Underfoot. Arya Underfoot." her voice comes out as a silent croak.

The next several moments are confusing for everyone inside the tent. Catelyn lets out a sharp shriek, dropping the piece of parchment she had been studying so carefully only a moment ago. Robb's sword falls to the ground almost as quickly, the man's bright blue eyes lighting up in a way that made Arya think of his excitement as a young boy whenever his Name Day came. A second later they are both enveloping her in what seems like the merriest hug Arya has received in her entire life. The brunette woman, standing from aside of the scenes, observes the three of them as though she knows exactly what is happening, yet she feels like she should stay out of the scene.

When she looks back at his brother and mother's faces, Arya finds herself grinning like never before.

"My little sister." Robb smiles, cupping her cheeks with his hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "My dear little Arya Underfoot."

"I heard you're a King now," she says, gazing at his eyes with an innocent expression that hadn't crossed her face for many months. "Am I meant to call you _Your Royal Highness_?"

"Oh, Arya," chuckles her brother. He looks at her and a moment later he's pulling her into another hug, even tighter than the last one. "You can call me a bloody bastard if you wish."

And so he laughs, and she laughs. And their mother cries, but laughs as well. And the young woman, whose name Arya does not know yet, smiles too.

And for once, all is well.

* * *

A few hours later, after being exhaustively bathed by her mother and the woman who had been introduced to Arya as Talisa, her brother's wife and therefore Queen in the North, she is all settled down in a small tent. She has been provided with new clothes, had her hair combed — despite having profusely declined the idea — and given a small chess game to entertain herself with. But instead, she's sitting on her bed, her chin propped up by her fist and a thoughtful expression on her face. She's been told that her brother and mother are discussing some important issues with Roose Bolton, and so she has been sent somewhere else with Talisa, who agreed to take care of her.

The woman is sitting on a small chair, reading a book that Arya cannot identify. The girl glances at her for a few moments, studying her expression. She looks nothing like the women from the North. Not even the ones she had seen when she arrived to King's Landing. She doesn't dress like a queen would, either — her dresses are humble and austere, and she has caught her with her cheeks smudged with blood from having helped the wounded at the campsite more than once.

_Perhaps that's why Robb likes her so much_, the girl thought. _Because she's different. And brave. She must be brave; Robb said she used to saw off the feet of the wounded._

"Talisa," she murmurs quietly.

The woman seems to notice her call a moment later, and almost immediately drops the book she's reading. She smiles at Arya attentively. "Yes, Arya?"

"Where are you from?" asks the girl quietly, rubbing her thumbs against each other. She knows she shouldn't be nosy — Talisa is her brother's wife and their Queen, after all.

However, the smile on Talisa's face seems to broaden at the question. "I'm from Volantis. Do you know where that is, Arya?"

"Um – " truth be told, Arya hasn't had much time to catch up on her Geography lately, but she struggles to remember. "It's — It's one of the Free Cities, isn't it? Like, the south and everything."

"Yes. The south and everything," Talisa nods.

"It's funny that you're the Queen in the North, being from so far south," chuckles Arya, almost unconsciously.

The woman seems to laugh at that last bit. "Yes, it is quite ironic. But being quite honest, I enjoy it. Not being a Queen — that's not important at all. But I enjoy being here, with your brother. Being a part of your family." When Arya looks at her again, she notices the woman has brought her chair closer and is now sitting in front of her. She can't help but notice that Talisa's hand is now resting over her bulged abdomen. "And being the mother of your brother's child, of course."

Arya's eyebrows rose. "So you really love him? I thought you — well, I thought your wedding must have been arranged by Mother. I supposed you were some sort of noble from somewhere overseas or something."

"Oh, no, not at all," Talisa shakes her head, patting her stomach lightly. "I was in fact raised as a high-born girl, but we met in a very — peculiar way, I'd say. You see, I had been working as a healer at your brother's campsite for a while, and we met when I was trying to saw a man's foot off. We talked, and talked, and — well, it happened."

Arya's brow furrows at Talisa's words. Not because she does not believe her, or because she does not find the story plausible, but because all those words — love, kiss, marriage — still sound quite odd to her young ears. She wishes she could understand how Talisa feels, but the truth is that she has no idea. She is twelve and, despite everything that has happened to her, she is still a child in many ways.

"I'm glad you and Robb love each other," Arya finally says, shrugging her arms. "Mother and Father loved each other, and they were really happy together."

"I've heard." Talisa smiles lightly, rubbing her abdomen gently. She then glances up at Arya again. "Do you want to know a secret, Arya?"

The girl's eyebrows rise in surprise. She has never been awarded with many secrets, but she knows how to treasure them well. She quietly nods and, with a mischievous smile, Talisa lowers her voice to a whisper.

"If the baby's a boy, I want to name him Eddard. Like your father."

Arya's eyes widen in surprise. For a few moments she can do nothing but stare at the smiling woman sitting in front of her, her eyebrows risen and the oddest of expressions on her face.

Talisa laughs. "Anything the matter, Arya?"

The girl shakes her head quietly just as she watches how a figure approaches the tent. A moment later she spots her brother's reddish curls peeking through the curtains, a faint smile on his face as he places a finger atop of his lips and silently tiptoes his way to the place where Talisa is sitting. Once he has gotten there, he envelops her with a hug and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Arya has never seen him act so happily, so carefreely — and yet she's seen him in a completely different attitude a few hours before, while discussing tactics with Roose Bolton. She silently watches how Talisa glances up at him with a smile as Robb's hands fall onto her swollen belly, their lips briefly meeting in a welcoming gesture.

"How's the little prince or princess doing?" asks the King in the North. His eyesight then lifts to his little sister and he gives her a warm smile. "And how is my sister doing as well?"

"They're both just fine," answers Talisa. She glances at Arya, a knowing look on her face.

The girl quickly nods enthusiastically. "Yes. We've been talking for a while."

"Oh, that's great." nods Robb, ruffling his sister's hair. "You know? I miss your little old braids. They made you look so funny."

Arya's eyes narrow at her brother with a faint smile as she fusses with her short brown hair, which resembles the sort of haircut that a boy her age would wear.

"I think it looks quite nice on her," replies Talisa. "It makes her look . . . strong, decided, brave. All that a Stark should be, isn't that what you always say?"

Robb chuckles, shaking his head. "Yes. Yes, you're right. My little sister is looking as brave and decided as always." He glances at Arya and gives her a friendly wink, to which the girl replies with a small smile. He then turns towards Talisa again. "Love, we'd better go to sleep now."

"Why so? It's not that late?"

"We've got Edmure's wedding tomorrow, remember? With the Frey girl."

Arya has already been told about the wedding, but she has also heard she will not be attending. Her mother thought that her presence would disturb Walder Frey, as she had previously been betrothed to one of his sons when Robb tried to become his ally many months ago. Talisa, Robb and Catelyn would go to the wedding, whilst Arya would simply stay at the campsite waiting for them to return.

"Oh. Yes, we'd better go to sleep now, then." Talisa stands up, her hands holding carefully her belly. She smiles at Arya and waves her goodbye. "I hope we can talk again soon, Arya."

"That'd be nice," whispers the girl, a faint smile on her face.

"You'd better get some sleep as well, Arya," says Robb, leaning his head towards the bed. "You must be really tired."

Arya nods quietly, and without saying a word slips into bed as the two adults observe her with a faint smile. Robb whispers something to Talisa, and the woman nods and walks out of the tent silently. Meanwhile, Arya has already found herself a comfortable position in the bed.

"Robb?" says the girl quietly, just before her brother leaves the tent after Talisa.

He turns back to look at her. "Yes, Arya?"

"I'm glad you're happy."

Robb's lips curl into a smile as he nods carefully. "We will all be happy from now on, Arya. I promise."

"May I play chess with you and Talisa tomorrow, after you get back from the wedding?"

He nods again as he strokes her hair carefully. "That'd be a great idea." He presses a soft kiss to her forehead as the girl cuddles into the first soft bed she has slept in for months. "Good night, Arya."

"Good night, Robb."

And with that, Arya closes her eyes and falls asleep, dreaming of Winterfell, Nymeria, the Old Forest and the future that Robb has promised her with their family forevermore.

* * *

_Well, that's pretty much it. Arya and Robb are both my favourite characters in GOT/ASOIAF, and I'd had this idea bugging me for a while now, so I thought I might as well sit down and type it. Hope you enjoyed it, please review._

_-cluelessclown._


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